


cuz the only hell i know is without you

by Pixeled



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: M/M, Reeve loses his sight, Vincent admits his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20353129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixeled/pseuds/Pixeled
Summary: This was perfect, Reeve thought. Vincent didn’t want him to see his scars.He never would.





	cuz the only hell i know is without you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilRobotCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilRobotCat/gifts).

> Suggested listening: Starset - Die For You (Acoustic Version)
> 
> This is a follow up fic to “and i’d give anything just to touch you”.

Reeve was tired. Bone weary. His head throbbed so badly, perpetually, but he had to finish what he started. They were investigating new power sources: cheaper, better alternatives. He’d designed wind turbines, efficient water mills, and they would put them into effect soon. He’d seen Rufus more this week than he cared to. Rufus wasn’t opposed to the idea of cheaper energy, as they were mining for coal currently and it was expensive and costly to human life. Not only that, but it was a limited power source, and born of the planet’s suffering, and Gaia was spewing monsters to let everyone know just what she thought of that. With Reeve’s plans they could automate about eighty percent of the job, and people would have all the things they had become accustomed to with the soul of the planet as their energy source. Still, the endless meetings were draining Reeve.

Reeve rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and looked at his watch on his left wrist. It was two in the morning and he was still reading paperwork, signing documents. Maybe it was time to turn in.

Vincent had been gone for a week. Reeve knew he was throwing all of himself into working so that he didn’t have time to think about Vincent, but he was still worried. He hadn’t disappeared like this since Omega was dealt with. Everyone had worried then, especially Reeve, but he’d come back to them then. This time, Reeve wasn’t so sure. And it wasn’t like he could abandon his post to go looking for him. Besides, he’d left a considerable amount of his things here. Maybe he just needed to think, to get away for a time. But then he thought of an idea.

Reeve drew the gun Vincent had given him out of his desk drawer and placed it on top of the fall of his engineer plans.

“It’s modded to hell,” Vincent had told him when he handed the gun over to Reeve some months ago. “Be careful. It shoots with the slightest twitch of your trigger finger. And the bullets are designed to travel and explode, just like Cerberus’s bullets. You shoot to kill with this. Stopping power isn’t even the word.”

Reeve took out a map of Gaia, unfolded it, and his eyes trailed over possible places Vincent could be. He considered the cave where Lucrecia’s body was trapped within crystal, but no. He had been there the last time, and he’d told Reeve he was moving on. Was he?

He made sure the safety was on the gun, slid it into the waistband of his pants, and packed a bag full of ammunition, knives, clothes, and military rations. The map he tucked beneath his robes.

Leaving so early (or late, depending on how you looked at it) meant that the WRO headquarters would be mostly empty, but he knew Terra would be there. She was an engineer by trade, just like Reeve, and she was smart as a whip. She’d lead well in his absence. He made his way there in the cover of darkness. He swore the stars in the sky twinkled more, the moon shone brighter once he left and traversed the outskirts of Edge. He wondered if Vincent was looking at the same sky wherever he was, contemplating the same thoughts. He couldn’t wait until they used wind and water as energy sources. No more emissions in the sky, clouds of darkness hanging above. He indulged himself in a smile.

When he came upon the building he was seeking, Reeve saluted the soldiers stationed at the entrance.

“Commissioner, sir!” they called in almost perfect unison as they gave the WRO salute back. Reeve smiled warmly, but he knew it didn’t reach his eyes. He was so very tired, but he’d press on. For Vincent.

The soldiers let the door open with a security card and a secret password and Reeve entered the building to seek out Terra Eterna. When he found her in her office, she was pouring over a series of sketches and plans, making furious notes. Reeve saluted her as he stepped over the threshold of the door. Terra looked up and smiled, saluting him back.

“Commissioner. To what do I owe the honor?” She asked. Her hair, usually streaming down her back, a brilliant flaxen color, was piled high up on her head in a messy bun. She was chewing on a pencil, a fountain pen in her left hand. Ink spatters were on a cloth to the side of the desk. Her eyes, a golden brown, looked warm and happy. She had admitted to feelings for Reeve, but Reeve had let her down gently. She hadn’t ever shown that she was hurt, choosing to always smile in his presence instead.

“I need to do something,” he said, getting to the point.

“How long will you be gone?” She asked, twirling the fountain pen.

“At least a week. I know I don’t need to ask you this, but can you run things while I’m gone?”

“Sure thing, Commish,” she smiled.

He didn’t need to discuss his plans with her—she had copies of everything, had been to all the meetings he’d been to with Rufus and the others. It would be smooth.

Reeve left the headquarters and took a WRO car, went out into the night. He traveled on roads that afforded cover. The car was rugged and armored. It was even equipped with turrets, though he would have needed a companion for that.

He drove until morning, consulting the map and the GPS frequently. Wherever Vincent was, he would eventually find him.

At around nine in the morning he phoned Tifa looking for clues.

“Hey, Reeve,” Tifa said on the other line. He could hear the smile in her voice.

“Tifa. Hello. I’m calling you to ask if you know anything about Vincent?”

“Last I heard he was heading to Rocket Town. Didn’t he tell you?” Tifa asked, sounding concerned. “Everything okay between you two?”

“We left things . . . a bit rough,” Reeve admitted.

“Did you tell him how you felt?” Tifa asked.

“Yes, I did,” Reeve said. “I thought things were fine. Then they weren’t.”

“Call Cid,” Tifa said. “He’ll know more. I’m sorry, Reeve. He looked . . . spooked. Never seen Vincent look like that.”

“Yeah,” Reeve said. “I fucked things up pretty royally.”

“I hope you can make things right,” Tifa said.

“Me too,” Reeve said. “Me too.” He ended the call and immediately dialed Cid’s number next, changing the course he was driving. He’d be heading for Rocket Town now.

“The fuck!” Cid called over the line. “What’d ya fuckin’ do to Vince?”

“Is it that bad?” Reeve asked. “Tifa had more or less the same accusation.”

“Wouldn’t even knock back a few cold ones with me. Straight to business, that one. He wanted _The Tiny Bronco _somethin’ bad. I offered to pilot ‘er for ‘im but he said it was his journey and made me show him how to work ‘er. Took off like a bat out of ‘ell. Would have been good in the service. But I guess that’s why he was a Turk. Those fuckers even scare me. Anyways, if yer lookin’ for ‘im he said he’s on a contract for Rufus. Might wanna start there.”

Rufus? What the fuck? What was that half-wit up to and why did he rope Vincent of all people into it?

“See you, Cid. Headed your way. Going to need a plane, I should think, but don’t worry about it.”

“One scratch on any of my babies and you’re a dead man. Don’t care who the fuck you are, you’re still a stuffed cat on a fuckin’ moogle with shit for brains to me.”

“It will be nice to see you again, too,” Reeve said, disconnecting the line.

Next he called Rufus. Predictably, Reno picked up the line.

“Hey, Commish! Prez is busy. What’s up?”

“I need information,” he told the Turk.

“Lucky for you, I’m in the business of information, Commish. But we’ll see if I tell ya. Might be top secret.”

“I’m looking for Vincent Valentine,” Reeve said, getting to the point. “Cid tells me he’s on some contract?”

“Yup,” Reno said. But that was all he said.

“So you’re not going to tell me where he is, are you?”

“Nope!” Reno said cheerily. Disgusted, Reeve hung up the phone without a goodbye.

So he was going to go on a wild goose chase for Vincent. Lovely.

Rocket Town took two days to get to. Reeve had to stop to get some sleep, and then he drove the rest of the way. When he got there, he parked the car and walked up onto the hangar, expecting to see Cid tinkering with something. And indeed he was. It was a small plane, and it had a woman painted on the side. She was very scantily clad, as Reeve would have expected. He wondered what Shera thought of these little additions.

“Hello, Cid. Come to collect a plane and a friendly point in the direction you saw Vincent fly off into.”

“Don’t suppose you want some fuckin’ tea first,” Cid said grumpily, but he clapped his hand on Reeve’s shoulder and squeezed.

“I’ll skip the tea for now. Maybe when I find Vincent and we come back here I’ll take you up on some earl grey.”

“Earl grey is for sissies,” Cid said, stuffing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting up.

“Yes, well,” Reeve shrugged.

Cid finished his cigarette and handed the keys to the ignition on the plane to Reeve. He also took some goggles from Cid and put them on, climbing into the seat and flipping on the various controls.

“Remember, no scratches. And he went north. Said it was a little cave with no name. Good luck.”

He waved at Cid and took off, flying the plane higher and higher until he leveled off, watching the scenery go by. He consulted the map again. The smallest cave on the map would take about an hour to get to. He’d start there.

An hour later he landed the plane. It had been a while since he’d piloted one and he was rusty, but the landing wasn’t too bad. He inspected the plane, making sure it was all right before he searched the surrounding forest. Sure enough, just on the shore, _The Tiny Bronco _stood out, gleaming in the sun. Reeve smiled. He’d found Vincent. Well, he still needed to confront him, but he was there on the island.

Reeve walked into the cave after he ate his breakfast, a protein bar, and was now ready for just about anything. He drew the gun from the waistband of his pants, flicked the safety off, and felt its comfortable weight in his hands, moving cautiously forward. The passageway was narrow, but anything could be lurking around. It widened as he kept walking, but it was devoid of monsters. Vincent must have dispatched them. Still Reeve held the gun. It made him think of Vincent, the day he’d given it to him, the way their hands had brushed together briefly.

The passage started to become steep and go down, down into the depths. He attached an LED light to his Commissioner robes so he could see as he made his way. He tried not to think about how far down he was going, how he was probably surrounded by ten tons of water pressure. He was slightly claustrophobic and he couldn’t swim—was always terrified of drowning. He’d never told anyone. But it was an irrational fear here, so he pressed on.

After hours of walking, he saw a light up ahead and heard gun shots. His chest tightened. He’d see Vincent soon. A sudden terrifying thought seized him. What would he say?

Sorry I didn’t go after you when you left my embrace that night? I’m a coward and a fool and I’m mad about you? I’d die for you? I don’t care if you have scars because you’re perfect to me? None of those things would make Vincent come back.

Just then Reeve suddenly felt something snake around his leg and he crashed back against the floor of the cave, hitting his head with a loud crack. His gun fired up and to the side. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he hoped the bullet didn’t bounce back and tear and explode into his face.

When Reeve came to, a pair of red eyes were peering at him intensely.

“Are you all right?” Vincent asked.

Reeve looked around. The bodies of three very large snakes were strewn about the surrounding area, bullet holes oozing blackish blood. Reeve smiled.

“I thought I was dead,” Reeve said, blinking. He rolled his head a few times as he sat up. “Don’t think I have a concussion. Hit my head pretty hard, but I’m okay.”

“Why are you here?” Vincent asked a little too roughly.

“You were gone for a week. I was worried. I . . . if something had happened to you . . .”

“I’ve tried to end my existence before, Reeve. I cannot. Nothing and no one can kill that which is already dead.”

That was a fair point, but still. Reeve didn’t want Vincent to retreat into sleep again, become that stone in time he had been, all because Reeve had messed things up.

“I messed things up between us,” Reeve said, standing up. Vincent stood up as well, as he had been crouching by Reeve’s unconscious body until he woke up.

“It wasn’t you. It was me,” Vincent said, sighing. “I’m sorry, Reeve.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Reeve said, smiling a bit. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Vincent shrugged. “But you shouldn’t be here. I’m doing a job for Rufus.”

“So I’ve heard,” Reeve said. “Are you going to keep me in suspense? Reno wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

“I’m not going to tell you either. But I will say I got what I came here for, so we can leave.” But just as Vincent said this a piercing cry echoed through the cave. It sounded close. Reeve picked the gun up from the floor of the cave and peered in the darkness, the LED light only going so far. 

It happened faster than his brain could register, but the monster came crashing into the opening of the cave they were in, and it was charging at Reeve. It was huge and angry. Vincent pushed Reeve out of the way and started shooting, but the monster swatted him into the wall as if he was a rag doll. He recovered quickly, but not quickly enough. Reeve fired off a few shots, but the thing clawed at his face, gouging deeply. Before it could harm him any further, Vincent killed it with a savage barrage of bullets which rained into the thing’s skull.

Reeve couldn’t see. It wasn’t just that there was blood in his eyes. His eyes were simply destroyed. He knew it.

“I can’t see!” Reeve gasped. And then the pain caught up to him and he passed out.

___

Reeve woke up several days later. He couldn’t see, and the world was dark. He felt sheets over his body, a bed beneath him. He knew there was a window because the air coming in from it felt fresh, but he couldn’t see at all. Panic welled up in his throat and he prepared to scream, but then he felt the weight of a hand settling over his on the sheets.

“We’re in Edge. I took you to the hospital.” Vincent.

“Are we alone?” Reeve asked.

“Yes,” Vincent answered. “I’m . . . sorry, Reeve. I wasn’t fast enough. I . . . should not have let my guard down like that.”

Reeve reached his hand up to touch his face. A bandage was wrapped around his eyes.

“I’ll never see again,” Reeve said. It wasn’t a question.

“No,” Vincent whispered.

“I’ll just have to remember what you look like,” Reeve said. “Shouldn’t be hard.”

“That’s all you care about right now?” Vincent asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Reeve answered. “I’m still alive. I still have you. The only hell I know is without you. Don’t leave me again.”

___

Finally Reeve was discharged from the hospital. He clung to Vincent, terrified of the world without sight. Vincent guided him, urged him to use the walking stick they’d given him, but he got frustrated every time he stumbled. Vincent was right there to catch him.

When they got back to their place in Edge, Vincent helped Reeve onto the couch.

“Why are you helping me?” Reeve asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vincent asked.

“No,” Reeve said. “Guilt?”

“I care about you,” Vincent admitted. Reeve imagined he was looking away, his body language stiff.

“As a friend,” Reeve supplied.

“No,” Vincent said. “You know how.”

“Can’t say it, can you?” Reeve laughed.

“Possibly not,” Vincent admitted.

And then they were kissing.

This was perfect, Reeve thought. Vincent didn’t want him to see his scars.

He never would.


End file.
